Three Days of Irish Christmas
by Patano
Summary: The Branson family spends Christmas at Downton. Sybbie decides to show her cousins some Irish traditions. The family at Downton falls in love with them, and there may be a Christmas miracle in store… A three-chapter present for coffeebean87 as part of S/T Christmas Fic Exchange. Now Chapter 2 is up.
1. Christmas Eve 1928 - Sybbie

_**This is my Secret Santa fic for the lovely coffeebean87. Merry Christmas, darling! I hope you have a lovely time with your family and friends :)**_

 _ **The fic will have three chapters, each posted on a different day and with a different POV.**_

* * *

 **Three Days of Irish Christmas**

* * *

 **Christmas Eve 1928 - Sybbie**

Sybbie was thoroughly bored. First the ferry, then the train, now the car. Journeys to Downton were always long and tedious and if it weren't for the joys of meeting the Downton family, she wouldn't be so calm. Only the forthcoming pleasure of seeing her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins kept her in decent mood.

The car finally stopped by the manor's entrance. Sybbie quickly stepped out of the car after her parents and saw a whole welcoming committee standing in line before Downton's front door. There was Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Mary, Uncle Matthew and nanny holding little Vi, Aunt Edith, Uncle Bertie, Marigold and Annabel, and of course, Tiaa. Sybbie quickly ran to greet her Grandma first.

"How you've grown up since summer," said Cora Crawley tenderly as she hugged her eldest grandchild.

"I'm eight years old now, Nana," exclaimed Sybbie cheerfully, and once Cora released her from embrace, she excitedly ran to greet other members of the family.

Once greetings were over and everyone drank their tea, adults sat in the library by the table to talk about what was going on in their lives, while the children did the same in corner.

Sybbie loved her cousins - she was closest to George, who was just a year younger than her. Marigold was five years old and her sister Annabel was just a year old. Little Violet, nicknamed Vi, was a six months old baby. She was named after great-grandma Violet, who passed away merely eight months ago.

Sybbie would never openly admit it to everyone, but she was jealous that George and Marigold had younger siblings - she wasn't so lucky. When she was five, Mum and Daddy told her that she was going to have a brother and sister, but later informed her that her sibling changed his or her mind and wouldn't come.

The girl couldn't understand why siblings wanted to come to George and Marigold, but wouldn't come to her.

She sighed loudly as George and Marigold exchanged information about their small sisters. She had nothing to contribute in that conversation and felt left out.

Desperate to change the subject, Sybbie remarked: "Have you lit your Christmas candle for Mary and Joseph yet?"

"What?" exclaimed Marigold and George in unison.

"You don't light a candle and put it on the windowsill?" Sybbie asked.

"We have candles in wreaths, but not on the windowsill," George explained.

Sybbie took her cousins' hands and led them to where adults were sitting.

"Uncle Matthew, Aunt Mary, why you don't have a candle for Joseph and Mary in the window?" Sybbie inquired.

"What?" Mary and Matthew were as surprised as Marigold and George earlier.

Mr. and Mrs. Branson, though, merely laughed at this.

"It's an Irish Christmas tradition," Tom explained. "We practice it every year at our home."

"Mama, Papa, please can we have a candle too?" George interjected.

"Please, Auntie, please," Marigold supported her cousin.

"Ask Grandpa Robert," Matthew decided. "He still decides on traditions here."

Sybbie knew what she had to do. She was her Grandpa's favourite grandchild; everyone said so.

If Grandpa was to relent and allow an Irish tradition at his home, it was up to her to convince him.

"Donk," the eight-year-old said sweetly as she took Robert Crawley's hand. "Please let me show Marigold and George our Christmas tradition. It's like having a part of home here..."

"Sybbie, dear, but you're our guests now, and you have a chance to learn our traditions..." Robert tried to convince his granddaughter.

But Sybbie was not the one to easily give up. "I'll learn English traditions too. I know many, actually. Mummy taught me because at our home we practice both traditions. So it's totally possible to practice both. And why should Marigold and George not learn Irish traditions too?"

Robert sighed. He couldn't find any more arguments. It was clear that he needed to relent. And frankly, he wanted to.

* * *

One of the maids brought several candles so that the children could select the one they wanted to put on the windowsill themselves. The selection process wasn't the easiest since all three were quite opinionated and had differing tastes. When George and Marigold were quarrelling over candles with red and golden ribbons, Sybbie pondered how to end this dispute. She personally favoured a candle with a blue ribbon, but something needed to be done soon.

Little Miss Branson raised her hand. "I've got an idea. Since this is an Irish tradition, what about a green ribbon? To honour tradition?"

George sighed. "All right, but we'll place it in my room."

"But why in your room?" Marigold whined. "You always want everything for yourself!"

Sybbie needed to interject once more. "Listen, Marigold. Let him have this candle. Someone needs to light it and extinguish it, right? Tradition says it should be a girl named Mary. Let Auntie Mary light the candle, but you'll extinguish it since your name is similar."

Marigold nodded her agreement and grinned proudly at being assigned such an important task.

* * *

When Mary came to George's room light the candle selected by the children, she was surprised just how excited they were about such a small thing.

All three of them gathered around the windowsill and Sybbie reverently placed a candle there (her cousins allowed her to have her share in fun, too).

Aunt Mary lit the candle energetically and unsentimentally, and as a flame began flickering and reflecting in the window, she extinguished all the other lights in the room.

As Sybbie looked at the only source of light in the room, she remembered St. Francis of Assisi's words that Father Morgan used last week in church - _"All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish a single candle"._

 _"And there's always hope"_ , Sybbie thought _. "There's always light at the end of the tunnel."_

She prayed quietly for her heart's biggest desire.

"Sybbie, Marigold, it's time for you to go to your beds. It's an important day tomorrow, after all," Mary reminded them and quietly gestured towards the door. Sybbie and Marigold obediently directed their steps there, but when Aunt Mary turned on electric lights, Sybbie looked behind her shoulder in the direction of the window.

The candle was still the brightest source of light in the room.


	2. Saint Stephen's Day 1928 - Tom

**_Time for Chapter 2! I also want to use this opportunity to wish coffeebean87 a Happy New Year because the next and final instalment will be posted on 6th January. _**

**_I would also like to thank you all for your reviews and kind words :)_**

* * *

 **26th December 1928 - Tom**

When Tom Branson opened his eyes in the morning, his wife was still deep in her sleep. He gently caressed her hair and and placed a small kiss on her temple; she stirred slightly and murmured something, but did not open her eyes. As such, Tom decided not to wake her up, especially after they had gone to sleep very late the previous night; they had spent a long time on night conversation with Sybil's sisters and their husbands. They all met together so rarely; the occassion had needed to be used to the fullest.

Tom quickly dressed himself up and went down the stairs to the dining room and gasped when he saw only his father-in-law. While Robert did finally warm up to him, Tom was still wary of the man.

"Good morning," he greeted the Earl of Grantham.

"Good morning, Tom," replied Robert Crawley and painfully realised that today there was no newspaper behind which he could hide himself.

"The weather is much more welcoming outside today," remarked Tom in a desperate attempt to start a conversation.

"Yhm," Robert murmured apathetically.

Both men were saved by the entrance of Matthew and Bertie.

After greetings, they finally proceeded to eat. With four of them conversation flew easier, and soon they were discussing their and their families' plan for today.

"I think we should finally get some air. We spent all day at home yesterday. Time for some fresh air," Matthew suggested.

"But what do you want to do? The hunt is scheduled for next week," Robert said.

Tom groaned internally. Of course hunting was the only outdoor activity that time of year that his father-in-law could indulge in. Of course.

"In Ireland we usually hunt today, on St. Stephen's Day".

Both Bertie and Matthew turned towards Tom, while Robert's face said something like "Catholics! It's Boxing Day, not St. Stephen's Day".

"Maybe you also have some other traditions for 26th December?" Bertie inquired.

"Yes, it's called the Wren Boy Procession. A legend says that one day a group of Irish were hiding from well... British soldiers," Tom began and looked cautiously at his listeners, especially at Lord Grantham. "And their hiding place was discovered because a wren pecked at their drums and gave them away. As a punishment, the wren was killed and hung on a holly bush. As such, the custom is that we form processions and visit our families and friends. It used to be processions with a dead wren on pole, but now more and more often it's just holly bush. It also used to be a procession formed by only men, but now women participate too."

"I've got an idea!" Matthew clapped his hands. "We can visit my mother and Dickie. The children will love it."

"Especially since traditionally you need to have a blackened face," Tom grinned.

"Lovely, it's settled. If our wives agree, let's do it," Bertie nodded his agreement cheerfully.

Robert Crawley merely sighed.

* * *

As expected, the children were overjoyed with their fathers' idea. Sybbie excitedly told her cousins how they had visited the houses of her Gran, aunts and uncles in Dublin.

"And they give you cake at each house you visit?" George was determined to know.

"Cake, tea and some sweets."

"Lovely!" George and Marigold exclaimed.

Then it was time to blacken everyone's faces. Cora, Robert and Mary were flabbergasted in the beginning, but the children's enthusiasm eventually won them over.

"You look like a devil," Marigold remarked at George.

"And you like devil's wife," George retorted back.

"Devil does not have a wife, dummy," his cousin did not want to yield.

"Heey," Tom decided to intervene. "Do not quarrel over this."

"Yes," Sybbie interjected. "You look like soldiers dirty with mud. That's what it is supposed to mean."

That stopped her cousins, who now focused more on the holly bush on the pole, earlier prepared by Tom, Bertie and Matthew.

"Bravo, Sybbie. I think that the blackened faces are a reference to devil because wren was deemed to be the devil's bird after it betrayed the Irish, but that was a clever way to stop them," Mr. Branson whispered to his daughter's ear.

Sybbie lit up at her father's words.

* * *

They finally set off for their procession. The weather was cold, but it was not snowing; the air was fresh and the snow crispy.

Adults continued to talk about their matters and children played in snow, but then Tom suddenly broke into a song and Sybbie and Sybil joined him:

 _"The wren the wren the king of all birds_

 _St Stephen's Day was caught in the furze_

 _Her clothes were all torn her shoes were all worn/_

 _Up with the kettle and down with the pan_

 _Give us a penny to bury the "wran"_

 _If you haven't a penny a halfpenny will do_

 _If you havn't a halfpenny_

 _God bless you!"_

"What is it, uncle?" George asked.

"It's wren procession's song. Another legend that explains the origin of this tradition is that a wren betrayed St. Stephen to Romans. Also, bigger processions consisting of more families often raise money for some local school or charity."

"Maybe we can raise some funds in our circle?" Matthew proposed. "My mother and Dickie will surely also give something. We can then give these money to our hospital, my mother will see to this!"

"Excellent idea!" exclaimed Sybil and the rest of the family nodded.

Tom then took off his hat and gathered the offered money.

"There's also another version of the song. I'll teach you and you may sing it to Mrs. Crawley," Tom informed the children.

* * *

When Isobel Grey and her husband went to the door to greet their newly arrived guests, they saw the Crawleys, the Pelhams and the Bransons at the door with blackened faces, while Sybbie, George and Marigold began to sing:

 _"The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,_  
 _On St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze,_  
 _Although he is little, his family is great,_  
 _I pray you, good landlady, give us a treat."_

Both Greys smiled widely.

"Is it some new tradition that we're unaware off? Likely Irish because of St. Stephen's Day..." Isobel remarked, while Richard Grey gestured to the maid to bring some gingerbread cookies and sweets.

"Yes, Aunt Isobel," Sybbie chirped cheerfully. "We teach Marigold and George our Irish traditions."

"And what do you think of them, darlings?" Mrs. Grey smiled at the two.

"I love them," said Marigold and George in unison.

Meanwhile, the maid brought the treats, which consumed the youngest members of the family's atttention completely (especially George's, to his grandmother's pleasure).

* * *

The whole family spent a very wonderful afternoon and early evening at Crawley House. They ate, talked, drank, sang and even danced a little. On the way home, the children and their parents had a snowball fight, which Sybbie, Marigold and George of course won.

After a light supper, the children were put to bed and the adults, who were also tired, directed their steps towards their respective bedrooms.

While Sybil was preparing for bed, Tom noticed that his wife's expression was rather miserable and he didn't understand why his usually optimistic wife was so sad after a really pleasant day.

"What is it, love?" he finally decided on asking.

"Nothing, Tom," Sybil began but then remembered that she and Tom had once promised to always be honest with each other. And she didn't like breaking promises.

"I saw Mary and Edith with their younger children and Sybbie's eyes when she saw Marigold and George with their siblings..."

Tom reached out for his wife, "My darling, you were reminded of that awful day..." he said as he kissed the top of her head.

"Not only that, love," Sybil whispered as she settled in her husband's embrace. "Also the fact that after the miscarriage we were never able to conceive again... and doctors didn't help us either."

"I know, darling, I know," Tom murmured soothingly.

"We have Sybbie and each other, but I would so love to have another child. I don't complain, just..."

Tom sighed. "I understand you completely. But right now what we may only have is hope."

"I'm not too patient," Sybil said.

"But I am," Tom smiled slightly. "Remember when I waited for you all those years? I doubted very often, but I didn't abandon hope and look where we are now. My biggest dream was fulfilled."

Sybil pondered her husband's words for a while; finally, she smiled weakly and captured Tom's mouth with her own.

When they finally parted, they stayed in embrace until sleep eventually won them over.


	3. Nollaig na mBan 1928 - Sybil

_**As always thank you for all the reviews :)**_

* * *

 **Nollaig na mBan** \- so called "Women's Christmas". On 6th January, it is a tradition in Ireland that women meet for only-female gatheringa while men do all the cooking and housework.

* * *

 **6th January 1928 - Sybil**

"Mummy!, Daddy!" Sybil heard in her sleep. She couldn't sleep any longer, especially since something heavy landed on the bed.

Still in drowsy daze, she furtively looked at Tom, who was also rubbing his eyes in order to be fully awake.

"Sybbie, what is it?" Sybbie finally mustered to ask.

"It's Epiphany today, isn't it? And Nollaig na mBan!"

"Yes it is, my darling," Sybil responded as she hugged her daughter good morning. "But remember that we are at Downton, Sybbie."

"It shouldn't bother us, should it?" Sybbie stated plainly. "We agreed with Grandpa that we would teach Marigold and George Irish traditions, didn't we?

At this point, Tom decided to interject. "We did, but it's hard to organise it here when everything is done by servants anyway. And it's impossible for me to imagine your Grandpa serving tea."

"But why not give female servants a free day here? And you, Matthew, and Bertie could help the male staff instead. While we all could have a pleasant tea-party just for girls, " Sybil proposed.

"All right, I'll tak with them during breakfast. "

"What about my father?"

"I'm certain he doesn't want to participate"

Sybil sighed. She knew that her husband was right.

"So, is my little princess satisifed now?" Tom asked as he tenderly stroke Sybbie's curls.

"Almost, " Sybbie replied.

"What more do you need?" both of her parents inquired.

"I want to stay with you in the morning. It's still pretty early, you won't be late for breakfast, Daddy."

Sybil laughed. "Of course you may stay, especially since the weather outside the window is so grim. We all need to snuggle and keep each other warm."

Her daughter smiled widely and positioned herself between her parents. Tom covered her with their quilt and all three of them fell once again asleep tightly embracing each other as outside the rain was melting all the remaining snow; a sign that the magical time of Christmas was drawing to an end.

* * *

It wasn't difficult for Tom to convince Bertie and Matthew to join him in preparing a surprise for their women. They also managed to convince Robert to give Downton female staff a free afternoon, so they may have similar gathering to upstairs women.

Mary, Edith and Cora accepted Sybil's invitation for tea in the library solely in female company. Sybbie and Marigold also joined enthusiastically.

When the female part of the family sat for their tea-party, door opened and four people entered carrying teacups, teapots, cake, and all the needed cutlery. Then husbands served their wives, while George served his cousins.

"I've learnt how to make tea, Mama," chirped George towards Mary as he poured Sybbie her tea.

"Very useful for the future Earl of Grantham," smirked his mother. "I remember when Sybil was learning to make tea before she went to become a nurse."

"I remember that too," laughed Tom. "What a sight to see!"

"At least I ventured out of my comfort zone," stated Sybil proudly.

"Don't forget that I can make scrambled eggs. Matthew taught me during our honeymoon," Mary reminded her sisters.

"But it's usually burnt," Matthew said.

"Stop teasing me, love. It was only once."

"Edith can make delicious tea, too," Bertie didn't want his wife to be left out.

"Well, the secretary at her office sometimes has a day off, doesn't she?" Mary teased.

"I try not to overload her as we're expanding now," Edith said proudly.

Cora Crawley observed her girls and their husbands and thoroughly enjoyed their pleasant chatter. She only felt sad that one of her sons-in-law would need to pour her tea. No way Robert would participate in something like this...

Suddenly, the door opened and Robert entered carrying a cup of tea. He approached his wife and put it on the table next to her.

"That's for you, my love. I've made my first tea in life. Even at my age someone may learn new things."

Sybil took Tom's hand quickly to give him a signal to stop smirking. She knew that it was very difficult for him to maintain composure, but she hoped that for her he would try not to laugh and make facial expressions of disdain.

She felt that Tom's hand pressed hers also. Yes, he understood, and yes, he would do this for her. Sybil sent him a small smile of gratitude in return.

Tom then bent and whispered into his wife's ear: "Your father had similar difficultes to you when you first tried to make tea, but he managed quite well in the end."

Sybil looked lovingly at her father. Yes he was full of flaws but also full of suprises. This whole visit was full of surprises. Tomorrow Christmas would be over and they would return to Dublin. Sybil loved her home, but also felt a pang of melancholy as always when Christmastide was over.

"So, little ones, have you enjoyed our Irish traditions?," she asked her nephew and niece.

"I loved it," George managed between bites of cake. "And I learned to make tea."

"I loved them too," Marigold concurred. "And I saw George looking like a devil who ate all of his Grandma's cake."

Everyone in the library laughed at this.

* * *

Tom noticed his wife's sober mood when, already dressed in nightwear, they were lying in bed and reading a draft of Tom's newest article together.

"What is it, dearest? Are you sad to depart Downton?" Tom inquired.

"It's my childhood home, after all, "replied his wife. "But I will be very happy when we return home. You know that I don't feel anywhere as good as in Dublin. Though truth be told, I'm happy to stay anywhere as long as you and Sybbie are with me."

Tom smiled at this and embraced his wife closer. "So, what troubles you?"

"I'm not troubled by anything. I'm just thinking about something... buy you'll call me a silly optimist."

"You know very well that I won't. Besides, I'm the reckless person here," Tom teased his beloved.

Sybil propped herself in bed, turned to face Tom and said quietly, "I'm late a few days.. it may mean nothing, but I have a very regular cycle..."

A small glimmer of hope crossed Tom's face. He tried to maintain his composure, however; he didn't want to raise both his and Sybil's hope hopes.

He delicately pecked Sybil's cheek and whispered:"May it be our Christmas miracle."


	4. Epilogue

Surprise everyone! There's a short epilogue too :)

 **25th December 1929**

"He's so beautiful!" Cora exclaimed as she saw her new grandchild for the first time.

That year it was the the rest of the family that came to visit the Bransons for Christmas - their newborn son was just three months old and thus too young to travel, while all the Crawleys and Pelhams were immensely impatient to meet the newest members of their family.

Sybbie was grinning proudly as she was presenting her little brother, Michael, to everyone.

Still smiling, she looked at her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, until her gaze rested on her parents, who were as radiating with happiness as she was.

It was the best Christmas they had ever had.


End file.
